Sweat rolls down my face. I lift the bar, 45 on each side. The pain, it hurts. Yet, I can't stop. I can't
I step up to the plate. My heart racing a million beats a minute. One foot steps up, the the next. The number shoots up, then down. Then up again. I cry, and cry. Seeing that number again. All my work, all the pain, gone, down the drain.
My bed sounds nice right about now. I sleep and hope I never wake up. Light beams through my blinds and the smell of breakfast fills my room. I walk upstairs and breakfast is on the table. It looks so good.
Yet, I can't eat. The number stamps into my head. My stomach turns. I'm hungry, or I just hate that number. Lunch comes and all I eat is half a sandwich.
Dinner, nothing. I step on the scale. Down one number. I hate it, I hate it.
Months go by, there's nothing on me but skin and bone. I'm happy, i'm finally happy.
...
I hear the sirens getting closer. The room starts spinning. I'm on a stretcher. I just wanted to be pretty.
YOU ARE READING
Stranded: A Book Of Poems To Leave your Mind Thinking
PoetrySoooo I only have this idea from Eliza. She's like an absolute goddess at poetry so. I thank her for all my ideas. A couple friends and teachers read my poems and think they're "good" so i thought i'd share. Enjoy! Don't hate too much, i'm not a pr...
